


Wrong Quicksilver

by Anonymous



Category: DCU (Comics), Impulse (Comics), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Hair-pulling, M/M, Pseudo-Incest, Spanking, mouth soaping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24310891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Instead of going to live with Max Mercury aka Quicksilver, Bart ends up living with Pietro Maximoff aka Quicksilver. Pietro has no patience for naughty little boys.
Relationships: Pietro Maximoff & Bart Allen
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24
Collections: DC Kink Meme





	Wrong Quicksilver

**Author's Note:**

> Oops my hands slipped and this was way easier than I thought it would be.
> 
> Written for the DC Kink Meme.

Pietro just barely caught the annoying little shit by his collar. He hated this whole situation. He hadn’t even known Wally West that well when he had dropped the most hyperactive little boy he had ever met on his doorstep without so much as a “please”. The worst part was that the little slip of a thing was already faster than him. Well, that and he had never so much as heard the words impulse control before. He was always running off with his little friends to god knows where to make messes and problems Pietro would have to fix.

If he had been this disobedient as a child, Magneto would have belted him until he was bleeding half to death. Of course, his father hadn’t exactly raised him, but it was the principle of the matter.

Bart looked up at him, face in a pout and amber eyes wide. His hair circled his face like a soft brown cloud. “Come on, Uncle Pete! I’m gonna be late!” he whined, starting to vibrate out of Pietro’s hold. Pietro had insisted that Bart called him Uncle Pietro, because pretending that he was Wanda’s spawn was the only way he could stand having him in his home, eating his food, and tracking mud on his carpets.  The things he would do for his sister.

“And I told you that you  weren’t going ,” Pietro told him, giving the boy just a light warning smack across the face. He had had it harder when he was half his age. His limited patience had run out with the boy days ago and he couldn’t stand the disobedience any longer.

Bart rubbed at the pink in his cheek, eyes already glassy. “Grife! That hurt!” Still, he phased through Pietro’s hand and started towards the door again. This time Pietro grabbed for his ample hair and pulled  _ hard _ . 

“You aren’t going, brat, and you are never  going to swear at me again.” As soon as Pietro had figured out what the word grife meant in the future he had been trying to cure Bart of using it. Having Wanda’s son (even if he wasn’t truly Wanda’s son) swear would reflect badly on him. He could almost hear the Avengers laughing at his inability to control the boy behind his back.

He dragged Bart by his hair to the bathroom  so quickly that  it would  have  give n a non-speedster a minor case of whiplash. Thankfully, the boy was able to keep up, though he stumbled due to the hand in his hair. He let out little whines of pain the entire time. Pietro didn’t care. 

He almost threw Bart into the bathroom, standing guard at the door, arms crossed over his chest. “Bare bottom.  _ Now.”  _ This wasn’t the first time he had given Bart a spanking and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. It seemed the only thing able to deter the boy from disobedience, and even then only for a day or so.

Bart was not wearing clothes conducive to quickly getting undressed for a spanking, and he made the process longer by moving at only half of his natural speed, which made Pietro tap his foot impatiently. First Bart shucked the button down shirt, stolen from him, Pietro noted, that he had been using as a jacket. He kicked off his shoes at the same time. The boy struggled with the buckles on his overalls for a few milliseconds, hands shaking enough that they kept phasing through the metal. Bart knew he was in big trouble this time. Though Bart wasn’t entirely sure, he had a feeling it was humiliation burning at his cheeks when he finally was able to get himself out of the denim garment and felt more naked than if he had just had to push his pants down. He kept his striped t-shirt on but after a stern glare from Pietro pushed his briefs down as well.

Pietro moved to sit on the toilet in a blink of the eye, hands now holding a bar of soap and the wooden hard backed brush. Pietro had never bothered to own a brush before Bart, but Bart’s mane had made it a necessity. So had Bart’s general badness. Pietro found a hairbrush was a good way to make a spanking that much worse. “Come here.”

Bart marched over to Pietro like a man facing his death and hesitated for a second before laying himself over his pseudo-uncle’s lap. He had learned enough foresight now that making Pietro make him would only make the punishment harder and, worse, longer.

Pietro shoved the bar of soap into Bart’s mouth and held it there when Bart started to sputter, whine, and run his mouth. Of course, this just made the soap suds form faster, starting to drip down Bart’s little chin. “This is for swearing,” Pietro said and pushed the bar just a little further into Bart’s mouth to make the boy gag. “Keep it in your mouth until I take it out or you will not like the consequences, brat.”

Bart nodded, eyes starting to tear up, and Pietro moved the hand that had been holding the soap in place to grip at Bart’s hair again. The boy did have wonderfully soft hair, and it was the best way to hold him still. These were the only reasons Pietro hadn’t made him cut it. 

He gave the smaller speedster no warning before he cracked the backside of the hairbrush down onto Bart’s smooth, bare, pale butt. Of course, he did it at his natural speed which made the sound and the impact louder and harder than if it had been at a normal human speed. Bart yelped, but thankfully it was muffled by the soap. He hadn’t dropped it.

Pietro’s temper overcame any sense of control he had been clinging to after seeing the first mark of red on the boy’s bottom. He went fast enough that he worked up a pace that even taxed him a little, and to any non-speedster would have looked like just the blur of motion. Bart’s ass got redder and redder and redder, and Pietro didn’t even stop to slow down until the entirety of Bart’s ass resembled two freshly picked cherries. Bart sobbed around the soap, voice hitching and muffled.

Pietro wasn’t satisfied with just that though, not when his thin patience had been torn to shreds so many times by the teenager. Especially not when he knew just how fast Bart healed. He wanted the marks to stick around for at least a day or so. He slowed down, still an impossibly fast speed to anyone who lived their life at a normal pace. He made sure the brush firmly pressed into Bart’s sit spots, knowing from experience that bruises there made running hurt. Bart kicked his legs involuntarily, but it was more a natural reaction to the pain than seriously trying to get away.

Pietro paused for a millisecond when he noticed the hint of purple around the edges of the spanking and stopped, rubbing Bart’s back for a solid second before pulling the soap out of his mouth. He had done well, after all. Hadn’t tried to phase out of his punishment, like he had the first few spankings he had gotten, and hadn’t thrashed badly.

“I’m sorry!” Bart said without prompting spitting out the suds that had collected in his mouth. He looked a mess, soap down his front, tears and snot on his face, and hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. Pietro wasn’t sure Bart knew what he was apologizing for, but it didn’t matter. Not really. Bart was being good, and that’s what mattered.

“I’m sorry, what?” Pietro asked, hand still firmly gripping Bart by the hair, and pulling on it.

“I’m sorry Uncle!” Bart blubbered, face red and wet with tears. Pietro couldn’t help the jolt of pleasure that ran through him and shivered just slightly.

Maybe having the boy around wouldn’t be that bad after all.


End file.
